


Well Earned Validation

by horrorriz, KingpinCobblepot (Theonlylucysaxon)



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: ...and perhaps dominated, Anal Fingering, I say light, Ive written way worse, Judge for yourselves, Light BDSM, M/M, Penn just want to be validated, Worship, adoration, face fucking, handjob, porn kinda without plot?, set somewhere during season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 13:10:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18011528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorriz/pseuds/horrorriz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theonlylucysaxon/pseuds/KingpinCobblepot
Summary: Mr. Penn had adored Oswald Cobblepot from afar for so long, silently suppressing the desires that simmered just below. Needing, craving to get some outlet, something real.Today was the day, he would take a chance and ask. With his life possible on the line.





	Well Earned Validation

**Author's Note:**

> Arthur Penn truly is worthy of love and this ship started as a crack and have since developed. Thank you Rachel for helping me finish this one by writing basically all the smut haha.
> 
> I have ONE simple request and it's to readers to never EVER show this to the actor (not even writing out his name in case he search for it), and if he's mysteriously reading... STOP!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy these two sweethearts needing to... Blow off some steam from long and hard workdays...? 
> 
> /Riz
> 
> \--------
> 
> So this started with a friend shipping Pennwald, and being like "I'm writing a thing" and here we are. Please do refrain from sharing this with actors as I know sometimes it is tempting, but this is sincerely 100% just some crack smut that is not intended in anyway to be anything more than that. It was fun to write, and my adoration for Pennwald only seems to grow by the days. I hope you all enjoy, and if Andrew Sellon ever sees this (which the good lord willing and the creek don't rise, he never will) know that this is from a place of admiration, as ridiculous as that might sound?
> 
> Enjoy my lovelies! 
> 
> /Rachel

 

The Penguin was seated at his desk at the office in the back of the Iceberg Lounge, looking through some paperwork.  
  
“I think that’s all for today, you’re free to leave.” Oswald closed the file he had open and pushed it aside before looking up at Mr. Penn standing on the other side of his desk, writing pad in hand.  
  
“Yes, Mr. Cobblepot. But perhaps...”, Penn started, putting the pad aside on the desk, closing the space between them and fiddling with his now free hands. Doing his best to avoid direct eye contact with the curious eyes looking back at him with a raised eyebrow.  
  
“If I have done well, and been a good boy of course…. Mr. Cobblepot sir! ...Would consider, taking care of me for a while now?”, he tried, tone low, throat feeling awfully dry —like he was about to choke on his own words. This was it. He had promised himself he wouldn’t keep it inside any longer, how would he ever know if there was something behind those enigmatic eyes that seemed to carry the weight of the world and then some, if he never spoke up? ‘ _Stop being such a doormat Arthur!’,_ he told himself.  
Then of course, it was more likely this would end with that hidden knife in the Penguin’s cane shoved neatly into his chest or his major arteries in the neck slit, his life draining out of him along with his stupidity of having exposed his true desires in this way.  
  
He swallowed at the thought and felt his confidence sinking, his stance following accordingly into a defensive position, flinching slightly and waiting for the first blow.  
  
The big throne of a chair scraped the floor in a scratching sound seemingly ear-piercing in the otherwise quiet and tense atmosphere of the room. Oswald grabbed his cane and started limping over to Penn, who instantly became increasingly startled and skittish.  
  
Towering over the small, nervous man, Oswald used his cane for support as he leaned over Penn so low the man had to bend over backwards until he almost fell over. Luckily having the desk behind him to grip against.  
  
“Have you really?”, Oswald purred and took a steady grip of Penn’s chin, tilting it back and forth as if seemingly studying him.  
  
“Y-yes!”, Penn hurried to reply. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, was… Was Mr. Cobblepot actually attempting to seduce him? Had he indeed have sensed the longing undertone between otherwise purely professional exchanges of words? Had he not imagined this odd connection after all…?  
Or perhaps it was simply the notion that they were both lonely beyond remorse, that they eventually did not care for giving in to the desperately need to be close to another… Arthur thought that maybe they understood each other more than one might first think. Being able to offer the comfort, reassurance they were both painfully aware to be craving, needing.  
Neglected and abused far too many times, broken and suffering. Neither what the world saw as a typical beauty.  
  
But oh how wrong those naive minds were —about Mr. Cobblepot at least. His strong features and aura alone was alone to make a man weak.  
He’d kneel for a chance of having just a tiny taste of such power, allowing him to worship the Penguin in the true glory of pleasure he deserved. Yes. That was why he had taken this job in the first place after all, that fluttering need to be controlled, dominated, owned.  
  
Yet here he was, asking for the complete opposite. For he had become soft to the idea of those tender fingers rewarding him. He had the stomach to be greedy for acknowledgement from the man who had every right to have him killed on the spot for even thinking of begging for what he might not even deserve. To dirty the hands of a crime lord that was better described as having divine power, or perhaps demonic. All for a humble servant as himself?  
  
Surely, he was way over his head with this —and he would most likely suffer to regret it very very soon. Yet, he couldn’t pass up the chance of putting his throat against the blade and take the small chance of reward, of a completely different outcome.  
  
“What did you have in mind?”, Oswald asked as he let his fingers trace a circular motion around his lips. Raising his leg to gently rub at the inside of Mr. Penn’s thigh.  
  
“I-I…” It was as all logical thinking had disappear as he started to melt under Mr. Cobblepot’s touch.  What was it he wanted again? What had led him to initiate this mad idéa that had come out fruitful in the maddest of situations? “I want you to... “  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Leaning in even further, they were almost nose to nose now and Penn could impossibly look away from those pale, piercing eyes any longer.  
  
“I want you to show me how much you truly appreciate my work, Mr. Cobblepot.”  
  
“What if I don’t?”, he teased. Finally letting his lips touch but not in a kiss, but a playful nibble of Penn’s lower lip.  
The other man gasped in surprise, shallow breaths struggling to regain any kind of dignity, not revealing how much he truly wanted this.  
  
“You’re going to have to kill me then.”, Penn replied half joking, half serious. He wanted the Penguin’s gratitude to be genuine, and if it wasn’t… Well, he was as good as dead anyway. Doomed to suffer in his loneliness for the rest of his life.  
For once in his life, he needed to take this chance. A leap of faith, if you will.  
  
This made Oswald burst out in a warm yet biting laughter.  
  
“I wasn’t aware of you having such terrific humor Mr. Penn.”  
  
The Penguin used one leg to push Penn’s legs wider, then guided his body back so he was resting on the desk, providing Oswald with a splendid view of the man. He smirked before letting his fingers work on opening the buttons of his shirt, one by one.  
  
It was impossible to keep his breathing controlled by now, and he wondered if Mr. Cobblepot could feel the growing excitement in his lower regions.  
  
A teasing nudge of Oswald’s knee pressing against his groin confirmed such questioning, making Arthur shut his eyes at the fleeting touch. He wanted to grab onto the jacket of the Penguin and drag him down into a lock of lips and body pressed against his— eager to take what it was he was begging for, but his better judgement decided against. After all, this was not a moment of taking for Penn. No. This was one of surrender. This was about giving himself over to the notion he could no longer TAKE anything, and instead was only to be given that which Oswald C. Cobblepot, the kingpin of a city built on crime, a god amongst men, deemed him worthy to receive.  
  
Instead, his hands were aimlessly fidgeting in the air, unsure what to do until Oswald took them in each of his, guiding them over Penn’s head and pressing him down even further. With Oswald at the helm, the other man could scarcely do more than quiver with anticipation.

With a now bare chest, bowtie discarded and neck exposed, Oswald finally rewarded him the sweetness of lips gently brushing his own. Painfully slow, almost heartfelt at first. Picking up speed as the motivation began to build. Not that Mr. Penn was necessarily opposed to the gentility afforded him by his benevolent employer. No, in fact it was something that the man deep down perhaps wanted even more than sexual satisfaction.  
  
It could be said, with rather a final sort of understanding, that Mr. Penn was more than in awe of Oswald. Was more than in adoration. Or more even than enamoured. He was in love. In his own strange, small way,  he loved Oswald and any opportunity to be granted solace from just how lonely such feelings could render him, were of course welcomed. Even if in this moment, they soothed part of his soul which was inherently less pressing than the needs of his body. A body which was alight with the need for the other man. A body which trembled and whimpered as Oswald’s lips glided down from his lips to trail against his neck.  
  
The sensation of his tongue brushing Arthur’s jugular was what made the smaller, rather ineffectual man buck up suddenly with a rapid sensation of desire sparking through him. Need. Want. Hunger. All lustful, brazen ideas flooding his mind as Oswald continued his slow, torturous assault. His knee between his legs, his tongue teasing the soft skin that covered his pulse point. Surely Mr. Cobblepot had to feel how it raced for him. How it thudded along in a manic sort of pattern, unable to bare the burden of excitement Oswald blossomed within him. It was always like this though, wasn’t it? On this particular occasion, perhaps a bit more so. His hands being pinned above his head, his body being touched, tasted in such a way that he left little more than a quivering mess. But his heart always sped up when Oswald was near, and especially when Oswald was pleased with him.  
  
Oh, his pleasure and expression of such was by far the most exquisite feeling Penn had ever known. To be told he did well, to be told his work was skillful, or he was competent. Small, innocuous sorts of compliments were enough to leave the man breathlessly in awe of the criminal who was currently biting his way along the smaller man’s jawline. He was almost certain this was it. This was his reward. It was glorious, and had it ended as such, he would have thanked Oswald and on shaky legs, have made his way out.  
  
Lucky for him-- Mr. Cobblepot had other plans.  
  
He suddenly was whispering in Penn’s ear softly. Oh so softly. A tone that made a chill run down his spine and a soft moan escape him. “You say you want me to tell you that I appreciate your work…. But that's not what you first said, is it?” he smirked and Penn tried to pull away just a centimeter to look in his eyes, only to be cut off by Oswald’s free hand coming to his neck suddenly. The smaller man gasped, tears rising to his eyes for the simple overwhelming notion of the moment. He had never been so aroused, so desperately, DESPERATELY in need. He throbbed within his trousers and whimpered softly as his hips fought against Oswald’s sheer proximity just to get enough leverage to rub against him. He needed some relief. ANY relief. And this before even Oswald said the one thing Arthur had never known he wanted so very badly to hear. “You said you wanted me to reward you if you’d been a _good boy,_ wasn’t that it?” Oswald was so close against his ear that he could feel the scrape of teeth against his ear as he spoke. “Is that what you long to hear, Mr. Penn?” He finally released the smaller man, pulling back and removing all that delicious contact to once again leave space between them.  
  
He stammered his next reply with a shaky, hoarse voice, seeped in the pleasure he was currently submerged within after that.  
  
“P-please, Mr. Cobblepot. I beg of you…”, Penn whimpered, trembling hands trying to straighten his glasses and steady himself as he attempted to stand up from the desk, only to find his knees quite literally weak.  
  
Oswald’s smirk fell away and was replaced with a sort of sincerity that was dark, and seemed rooted in the storm which brewed behind those beautiful enchanting eyes.  
  
“Mr. Penn, I believe proper begging is to be done on one’s knees.” And with that simple assertion, came a single raised brow. Here it was. He wanted Oswald’s praise, his domination, his ardor-- and all three were being handed to him with an ample opportunity that had the still panting man flush with the anticipation.  
  
As if he even needed to ask, Penn already felt his legs give in under him with the sheer overstimulation of arousal, making his head spin and he fell to his knees. His hands wrapping around the legs of the crime lord standing tall and proud, making him plead for his urges to be taken care of. Something that was nothing else than right, deserved even. Penn owed the Penguin that much. He had given him work, accommodations, a purpose. Someone to serve and order him around. Mr. Penn didn’t know what to make of his pathetic life without the pointer of a higher authority to boss him around, rule his life so completely that it was all that mattered. All that existed.  
  
Oswald Cobblepot a.k.a. the Penguin was his life in all ways, and he’d happily give himself fully to the man.  
  
Penn glanced up, through hooded eyes to see the satisfied smirk painted over his boss’s lips. He struggled with just what to do now, his eyes glancing down at Oswald’s very much available to him, groin and wondered. Before he could ask, Oswald was reaching out to possessively tilt up his head, forcing their eyes to meet in what felt like the most literal sensation of eye _contact_ , Arthur had ever experienced.  
  
“Now, what do we say?” Oswald asked with a dark grin.  
  
“P-please.” He stammered out with a gulp.  
  
“Please _what_?” Came the reply,  the hand on his chin flexing lightly in warning.  
  
“P-please SIR!” Penn corrected quickly. “P-please allow me to show you that I can be…”  
He went quiet as his throat went dry.  
  
“Can be what?” Oswald asked, licking his lips as the other man continued to fumble with his words.  
  
“A-a….” He drew a deep breath and finally the two words came. The words which excited him-- thrilled him even. “...good….boy….” He managed with a hoarse voice, choked with lust and anxious energy. Was this it? Was this really happening? After all this time at Mr. Cobblepot’s side, after all this time of fantasies and hopes— here it was. And it was real. It was a surrender of sorts, completely giving himself over to the mercy of the infamous Penguin. Given the man’s nature, he was in for this with his life at stake and he gladly gave it many times over for just a small taste of what he had dreamed of and could not believe was actually happening.  
  
Oswald merely smirked, letting go of his chin to begin undoing his trousers, pulling himself from within.  
  
“Show me then.” came his only instructions and Penn’s eyes went wide as they dropped down and he found himself staring at the waiting length of the man who he lived for, and wouldn’t gladly die at the behest of.  
  
It was bigger somehow than Penn had imagined. Well, perhaps not. Not so big. it wasn’t as if Oswald could be on display in a freak show or anything, but he wasn’t small. For a petite man, a man who carried himself as a tyrant among the people, a king in a city of peasants, it wasn’t surprising. Arthur licked his lips, staring at it for a moment.  
  
He admittedly had glanced a little closer than appropriate through those, what sometimes appeared way too thin dress pants on more than one occasion. Noticing the shape, the curve, the lines of the fabric sometimes stretched taut against what must have been arousal after a particularly gruesome moment of violence on Mr. Cobblepot’s part. The idea at the time felt embarrassing. To notice Oswald’s arousal.  And here it was, in all its glory… And this time, the arousal was because of Penn himself. He had done this. He had gotten Oswald into such a state. The very idea was euphoric.  
  
What he was implied to do with it, to taste the most intimate part of the Penguin that no one ever had the privilege of looked upon, made his mouth water. Oswald’s guiding hand, lowering his head to take the tip into his mouth was more than welcome. It was needed and even craved. Penn gave himself over to the control of the other man and soon found his lips parting as Oswald’s length passed between them, diving into the wet warmth of his eager mouth. His thrusts were gentle, testing— Penn’s mouth wasn’t.  
  
He suckled at first and brushed his tongue along the underside of Oswald’s tip before fully embracing the moment. His chance. He began to suck hard and reached out to take Oswald’s hips in his grip to help him gain speed as his head bobbed forward. This small gesture, grabbing at Oswald and showing his desire was enough. It was all Oswald needed. He began to thrust in earnest, and it was brutal. A rough, ruthless pace as he effectively fucked the oh so desperate mouth of his dear employee. The head of his manhood made contact with the back of Penn’s throat, almost consistently. Mercilessly. He choked, his eyes watered, he felt spit pooling in the corners of his mouth and threatening to run down his chin. But Arthur didn’t care. He was too enamored with it all. With this moment and this feeling. He belonged to Mr. Cobblepot in the ways he had lusted after for such a long time and was now able to truly enjoy. Being used. Being taken. Being dominated. Chills ran up and down his body and set his nerve endings alight as he wondered at this feeling. This feeling he had never really known before but often imagined. It was glorious— beyond glorious.  
  
He was in the midst of marvelling when suddenly he felt the grip on his hair get all that much tighter. A hard thrust forward—  
  
And suddenly Oswald was coming in his mouth, down his throat, the force of it gagging Arthur as he struggled to swallow. He wasn’t given a choice. He didn’t want a choice. Oswald had him swallow it down and with a greedy sort of weakness, a choking kind of obedience, he did so. All of it. Oswald pulled out then and Penn followed along even once the now flaccid length slipped from his mouth and took the chance to lap at it softly.  
  
So desperate to please him.  
  
Oswald liked it.  
  
He smiled a little and gave a soft murmur of praise as his hand in Penn’s hair had gone gentle and now combed through it, leaving the man to look up at Oswald with such filthy devotion.  
  
“You’ve been a very good boy.”  Oswald said the words and Penn felt his knees buckle. He was throbbing hard and light headed. “And you deserve a reward.” His eyes went all the wider as Oswald brushed fingertips over his cheek. “Stand up.” He announced.  
  
Arthur scrambled to do so, and nearly fainted somewhere along the way. He was trembling. Eye wide. Tears seeming to lurk just under the surface. He was a little scared— well, more than a little. He was petrified. It was the most intense feeling of concern he had ever known. He wanted this. He was sure of it. But it was just… Oswald was just… And Arthur was certainly just…  
  
Oswald tucked himself back into his trousers, zipping up and then smiling a little as Mr. Penn looked at him, eyes full of questions.  
  
“On the desk.”  
  
The words were simple and yet Mr. Penn wasn’t sure he could manage that simple movement without tripping over his own feet. He drew a deep breath. He just had to be brave. He could do that. He was sure of it. When the stakes were this high, and for the first time in his miserable life he would be brave and take the chances to get the things he wanted. He moved to sit on the desk just in front of Oswald, his gaze looking to the other man with a soft sort of inquisitiveness. Was this right? Was this what he wanted?  
  
“Pants down.”  
  
Oh goodness, Mr. Cobblepot would certainly undo him with such commands alone. Penn brought his hands down to undo his trousers and lifted up to begin wiggling them down so that they fell around his ankles. He sat in his boxers and looked up with even more silent questions, hands hovering over the waistband on his underwear. Oswald smirked, nodding and Penn drew another rough swallow before complying. It felt good in a way, freeing his erection which had been straining against the material desperately. He was so aroused, so much more than aroused. He was aching for this. Whatever this was. Oswald just grinned at him ominously and moved to push him back against the desk now, kissing his lips hard and deep. The kind of bruising kiss Arthur always imagined Oswald would give.  
  
He pinned him there, his hand reaching down to wrap fingers around the now free and throbbing length of the other man, his hand sliding up and down. His strokes were slow. Teasing. Maddening. Penn’s breath was already ragged and this teasing only served to elicit a sort of whine from his lips. A whimper. He fell back against the desk, a writhing mess. He was so overcome with the sensation of being touched that when his hand pulled away, he didn’t even notice when Oswald pulled a bottle of lube from the desk drawer and began to slick his fingers of his free hand. All he cared about, all he thought about was how good it had felt as he tried to catch his breath. Bracing for what he assumed would be more of the same.  
  
And he wasn’t wrong. Soon the hand returned to his length. Being now lubricated as well, his palm slid up and down faster over Penn’s length. But then came the sensation of a single finger tip breeching him. Oh…  
  
That was a lot.  
  
Too much.  
  
Not enough?  
  
Penn bit down hard, gritting his teeth as his eyes threatened to roll back. It wasn’t necessarily pleasure alone. Not pleasure in a traditional sense at least. It was the idea of it all. The heady knowledge that Oswald Cobblepot was touching him, stroking him, penetrating him. Strong, commanding fingertips on and in Arthur’s body leaving him feeling all that much more dominated. Soon the finger was knuckle deep inside him and it brushed that on so sensitive spot against his prostate, against that place within him that no matter how often he might catch with his own hand— never felt like enough— and now was everything. Too much. Far too much. And the sheer extent of how too much it was drew the most lewd moan from his lips. His eyes which had been rolling back nearly into his head with wanton satisfaction, now closed tight. His face contorted in anguished orgasmic precipice. It was there. So close so suddenly. Oswald’s finger was now rocking in and out of him in psych with the hand wrapped around his length and he was leaned over him, kissing and biting at his neck and jawline. Whispering to him.  
  
Telling him he had been such a good boy.  
  
His smugness seemed audible.  
  
But that was okay. Why shouldn’t he be smug. He should never be anything less. He was the king of Gotham. He ruled all. He deserved to be smug and if anything, Penn could just imagine the smirk Oswald would wear as he enjoyed tormenting him with the sweet agony of a building climax… And it only served to help. Soon one finger became two. Oswald’s speed was rapid, Penn’s breathing even more so. He was so close. So close. Dripping closer and closer to the edge of release. He knew he would arrive any second. Any second… Any….  
  
“Come for me.”  
  
And he came. Simple as that. As if he had been utterly able to do so on command. It was being told. That was what did it. That was what brought him there, and while it would not normally be so easy to achieve… Oswald was Oswald. And Oswald wanted something and Arthur Penn lived and breathed to give him what he desired.  He came with a keening sort of moan of “Mr. Cobblepot…” Spitting the word out needily, as Oswald bit at his earlobe and chuckled darkly. His orgasms normally had always come as something warm, welcoming, satisfying. But this was more than that. This was overwhelming and white hot— blinding in the way that it flooded his body and left him a heavy limped mess spread over Oswald’s desk.  
  
He let him ease down from the high of it all, before he pulled away entirely. He wiped his hands with tissues, and likewise handed Penn tissues to clean himself. He stared up at Oswald as he did so, stammering out a thanks for handing them to him. As well as… Well… everything else. Oswald seemed unphased as he moved around the desk and into the adjoined bathroom. He washed his hands and seemed to straighten his suit a bit where it had been mussed by the activities. Once dressed again, Arthur found himself staring at him. He stepped back into the room and immediately back to his desk, pulling his papers back in front of him and not even glancing in Penn’s direction.  
  
“That’s all for now.” he said simply and Arthur found himself breathlessly nodding as he headed for the door.  
  
“O-of course, Mr. Cobblepot.” He stammered on his way, only hesitating when Oswald called out.  
  
“Oh and Mr. Penn—” He stopped and looked back at the man with curiosity. “Next time I intend to properly fuck you… Please expect that.” He said simply, not even glancing up. But a small smirk played on the corners of his lips.  
  
Penn couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Bright, brilliant, remarkably wide and excited.  
  
“O-of course Mr. Cobblepot... “ He repeated the affirmation and then softly added. “I-I look forward to it.”  
  
And with that, he left the room on still very weak knees, and wearing the most ridiculous sort of grin.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Remember that in a ship as tiny as this one, every bit of love and affection is needed from you lovely readers. Will me your appreciation with all those comments kudos. This time they sustain the both of us. XD 
> 
> /Rachel


End file.
